


The Curious Couple

by orionsuccs



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Coping, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Past Character Death, theyre just an old married couple, this is THE sappiest sex ive ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 20:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18185459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orionsuccs/pseuds/orionsuccs
Summary: dutch has emotions (wow really?)hosea helps (like always)





	The Curious Couple

**Author's Note:**

> hosea and bessie were swingers. thats all.

Dutch’s tent flap had been closed all day. No music came from it, not even bickering between him and Miss O’Shea. No one went near the white tent. If it was an emergency, Dutch’s feelings could be put aside for a minute while someone burst into his space to warn him of whatever need be. But today was quiet, and Dutch didn’t come out. 

Everyone acted normal, though a little quieter than usual. Like they were in a library. Plenty of activity and the occasional noise but everyone knew about the unspoken rule. Even Jack, the youngest of the party, could feel the tension seeping into the rest of the family.

That day there was no _“Good morning, girls!”_ or _“Afternoon, Mr. Pearson.”_ spoken around the chewed end of a cigar. No polite flirting to Miss Grimshaw, and no encouragement to go along with a pat on the back. This was… well, not normal, but it was not unexpected. 

Dutch was bad with death, after Annabelle. And there was so much of it after Blackwater with so little time to cope with it. The rest mourned them quietly and calmly while Dutch kept it in for far too long. Months, between being up in the mountains and caring for the nomadic group they had become. The gang guessed that today he ran out of room to bottle it up finally.

When it got dark, the fire stayed warm, but there wasn’t any singing around it. Javier’s guitar wasn’t touched for the evening, and they only spoke soft _“Good night”_ s when one left the campfire. John and his family ate dinner by their tent and went straight to bed. The younger group lingered around the scout fire and drank when everyone else was in for the night.

Except Hosea. Hosea grabbed a second helping of dinner and a drink and rapped his knuckles on the post of Dutch’s tent. No answer came, though Dutch was very clearly present, his silhouette painted against the tent sides. Hosea cleared his throat, announcing who he was without saying any words and entered the tent.

Dutch looked… quite disheveled for a man who didn’t go anywhere or do anything that day. Hosea gave him a sad look and put the bowl of stew on the barrel that acted as a table next to Dutch. He sat across from him in the dim light, waiting. Dutch looked up at him finally.

“Leave me, Hosea.” Dutch waved a ringed hand to the front of the tent in mock of an order, but Hosea didn’t move.

“Well, ya see, I can’t rightly do that until I see you eat something today. You’re no use to any of us starving, least of all yourself.” Hosea’s hands clasped together on top of his knee.

“I want… I need to be alone.” Dutch pressed his clasped hands against pursed lips and stared through the floor in front of him.

“I know you think that, Dutch, but I think you could use some company… and some food. Eat, son.”

Dutch sighed. He scratched at the small patch of hair on his chin before grabbing the bowl of stew. He made a show of the first bite for Hosea, but quickly resigned himself to just eating after getting a taste of Pearson’s cooking. Hosea smiled and crossed his legs, reaching for Dutch’s book. His bookmark was on the same page Hosea saw him put it in yesterday, so Dutch either really did sit and do nothing, or he at least didn’t read very far. He skimmed over a few lines of the book, seeing a strange irony in Dutch’s isolation and the words on the page speaking of self-awareness.

He put the book back down and saw Dutch had eaten over half his serving already. Hosea crossed his legs the other way and sat back, smiling.

“Damn Pearson and his good food…” Dutch cursed and put the empty bowl and spoon on the floor, sliding it towards the tent flaps.

“Feel better?” Dutch nodded. “Well, good. I’ll leave you then if that’s what you really want.” Hosea stood.

He took not even three steps, his fingertips only barely grazing the canvas of the tent, before a hand gripped his wrist. He felt Dutch’s rings press into the bones of his wrist. Hosea turned and held Dutch’s wrist back.

“Stay… please.” 

Dutch’s hand squeezed once. Hosea only nodded and came around to sit next to Dutch on his cot. He didn’t let go of the older man’s wrist. Hosea put his other hand against Dutch’s back. Dutch let his head rest against the other man’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Hosea rubbed small circles in between his shoulder blades. They were comfortable.

Dutch forced out a deep breath like it was difficult to do so, it hiccuped at the end. His shoulder’s shuddered under the beginning of a sob. He squeezed Hosea’s wrist once, and he squeezed right back. Dutch leaned against him more and pushed his free arm around the other, clinging tightly. Hosea held him close with his hand curled around Dutch’s upper arm.

“I’m here, son.”

“So many of us are gone from one bad job!” Dutch cried.

“I know, son.” 

Dutch released Hosea’s wrist and scrubbed at his face. The first few tears finally fell and caught on his mustache. He breathed deeply and tried to will the rest away. Hosea pet the dark curls and pressed his lips to Dutch’s temple. 

“What i-if it had been you or Arthur, o-or…” Dutch whimpered and gripped Hosea’s vest.

“It wasn’t, Dutch. It wasn’t me or you or Arthur. It was three other people that we cared for, but they’re safe now. Nothing bad can happen to them ever again, Dutch.” Dutch nodded and felt Hosea thumb a new tear away. “We are all still sad, and we mourn them, but there’s no point wondering ‘what if something worse had happened?’ We just have to push through and survive.”

“I-I would switch. If I could, I would trade myself for everyone that’s died for me every time!” Hosea pet that thumb over his cheek once again but there was no tear this time.

“I know you would, but you can’t. We just… have to live.” Hosea shrugged because it truly was as simple and as cruel as that.

They couldn’t go back. They couldn’t change it. But the world kept spinning. Life didn’t care that you needed a break, you just had to keep living. Like they always did.

“Stay with me… tonight.”

“Of course, son.” Hosea pressed another kiss to Dutch’s temple, one of finality.

——— 

Dutch woke more rested than he had in a long time. He went to stretch but his arms caught on something. He registered the warmth at his back and the constriction around his waist. He pet a ringed hand along the arms around him and closed his eyes. Hosea was warm at his back and heavy, solid. He hadn’t had a proper bedmate in a while, he forgot how nice it was to wake up against another human. He either wasn’t in the mood to deal with Molly’s nonsense, or she would move away throughout the night.

Hosea shifted behind him and his hand spread out against Dutch’s chest.

“Mornin’, Dutch. Feel better now?” He pulled Hosea’s hand up and kissed the knuckles.

“I do… thank you.” Hosea pet the shorter man’s face and carded through the scruff lining his jaw.

“Come into the city with me. I need some more bait, and you need to get out.”

“The nearest _city_ is quite far away, Hosea. Why would we go in for just bait?” Hosea hummed as if in thought and pressed a kiss to the shell of Dutch’s ear.

“We can rent a room while we’re out… Stay in a proper bed. Take a real bath.” 

“I’d dare to say you can’t wait until we’re in town, old man.” 

He pressed back slightly against Hosea. The older man only chuckled and pat his hip. 

“Patience.”

——— 

Saint Denis wasn’t too far. Perhaps Dutch had exaggerated a little bit. Silver Dollar and The Count trotted beside one another, huffing back and forth.

They had told the gang they needed some air and a drink and that they would be back tomorrow. Everyone told them goodbye excitedly, and were just happy Dutch was finally out of his gloomy mood.

When they moved into more swampy territory, they switched from riding side-by-side to riding in a queue. The roads that existed were narrow, and the ones that didn’t were squishy and caked the horses feet in muck.

Dutch lamented The Count’s beautiful coat dredging through this marsh, and Hosea chuckled that Silver Dollar’s coat was his silver lining. Dutch’s horse was the fastest and best racehorse of the group, but if he wasn’t clean you would know.

When the smoke stacks came into view and The Count had a new pair of brown boots, Dutch gazed at the rider in front of him. _How did we get so old?_ Hosea’s blonde was gone. Entirely. He was as gray as his horse. Dutch was finding more and more grays in his curls everyday. After not shaving for a couple days, he noticed he couldn’t have a full beard even if he wanted. The scruffy shadow was missing in a spot on his right cheek and around the left corner of his jaw.

He saw how Arthur looked too. Coughing more and more. He earned some grays in his hair too, but he didn’t try to hide them. They were getting old. Too old. They needed that last hit so they could leave once and for all.

“Dutch? I said the hotel’s up this turn. You okay?”

He was brought out of his thoughts. He had ridden the rest of the way without thinking. Simply following the gray of Hosea and his horse. Like he always did. He waved his hand up in acknowledgement and hitched his horse in front of the general store. He popped in for some petroleum jelly, a couple of cigars, and a newspaper. 

He didn’t really care about current events. He would just flip through to see if there was any mention of the Van der Linde Gang to get a feel for how hot the cops were on their trail. A small article hidden in the middle of the paper mentioning one of Arthur’s solo jobs, but no name attached. _Good boy._

He folded the paper and tucked it under his arm. He left his horse where it was hitched and walked around the corner to the hotel. It was probably the smallest hotel in Saint Denis, but this place was expensive anyways. The clerk looked bored. Decent enough looking though. He probably heard all sorts of silly things here and knew not to bring them up. Dutch walked up and knocked his knuckle on the desk.

“I’m looking for my friend. I may be a little early. We were to meet here today. Tall, gray hair.”

“Yes, of course. He just arrived. Room 3.”

“Thank you, friend.” Dutch gave a small salute of a wave before heading upstairs and finding the room number.

He knocked. There were a few footfalls inside, and the door opened. He had just seen the damn man not ten minutes ago, but he still took his breath away. Surely not in the same way a scantily clad woman might, but the inability to breathe was all the same. Hosea smiled and his chest ached.

“Well don’t just stand there, Tacitus. Come in!” Dutch smiled back and shook his head. _Their aliases were getting more ridiculous, weren’t they?_

Fair enough room. A bit dusty, but who knows if anyone besides the clerk even worked here. He deposited his hat on the vanity, noticing the nice large mirror in the middle of it. He went to unclasp the buttons of his vest, but Hosea’s hand stopped him. He pulled Dutch’s hand away and undid the buttons himself.

“You know I like this part.” Dutch grinned.

“Oh, I surely do, old man. You love getting me out of my fanciful garb.” 

Hosea just grinned and nodded, working down the buttons. Dutch helped remove himself of his vest before his hands came to Hosea’s hips. The older got through half of Dutch’s shirt buttons before the dark curls became far too tempting. His hands landed on the chest in front of him and pet the hair and muscle beneath them.

“Shame you and Bessie didn’t know each other very well… you are just her type.” Dutch chuckled at that.

“She married you. Aren’t you her type?” Hosea shrugged.

“Bessie had a lot of types.”

Hosea moved the rest of the buttons apart. Dutch held his arms down and back to let the waistcoat fall away from him before replacing them on Hosea’s hips. Hosea was taller, much to Dutch’s dismay all these years, so he wound his arms around the now bare shoulders in front of him. He pressed gentle but insistent kisses along Dutch’s temple and cheek. Dutch only hummed and closed his eyes.

Hosea divulged him of his french-collared shirt a lot quicker. He wanted to see that thick chest he missed. The hair their had thickened since they first met, and his ribs were less obvious. The meat around his middle made him look firm and strong. Hosea loved it.

Hands went down Dutch’s sides and pulled him forward by the leather around his waist. Hosea went back into the bed and sat, beginning to undo the clasp of the gun belt. Dutch took it off and laid it on the ground, while the other just leaned back to look him over.

“Been awhile since we done this, huh? You’ve got more muscle. More grays in your chest hair.” 

Dutch huffed and looked down at himself. Muscle was showing sure, but so was age and hardships. He saw the wrinkles every morning, the dark seeping into his face. He had more scars than ever before, and he couldn’t even tell you where they all came from anymore. He could run from the law, but he couldn’t run from this.

“I was thinkin’ the same thing on the ride down. It looks good on you. Just makes me look like I’m dying.” 

Hosea shook his head and his eyes focused on that bare torso for a second longer than anywhere else.

“Makes you look… experienced.”

“I know about that silver tongue of yours, old timer. You can’t pull that on me. You know this.” Dutch huffed a small laugh and held his arms out in show of himself. “I’m breaking. We all are. We’re getting too old for this.” Dutch sighed and rubbed his face.

“Come here.”

That was all it took. Dutch gave up the fight and stepped into Hosea’s space. Silently, he undid the actual belt holding up the nice pinstripe trousers. Hosea’s lap was filled with Dutch soon after, hugging the older man’s neck. Hosea pet the softer patch of dark hair hidden on his lower back.

“We’re never too old to survive and take care of our family. You know that.” Hosea kissed his shoulder. “Now isn’t the time for those thoughts though.” Another kiss. “Do you still want to do this, Dutch?”

“Of course. It’s been months, and Molly hasn’t given me so much as a glimpse of her ankles.”

Hosea laughed, all bright with the corners of his eyes crinkling. He nudged Dutch out of his lap and went to finish what he started. He unclasped Dutch’s trousers. They bunched around his boots, which Dutch bent to remove, careful not to catch the cloth on his spurs. Everything got put beside the gun belt on the floor. Hosea pet his hands up from Dutch’s knees to the edge of his boxers. He loved his hair, well, everywhere. You couldn’t lose sight of it on Dutch.

“Alright, old man, it’s your turn. C’mere.” 

Dutch waved him up. He tried not to look up at the man, because frankly it was embarrassing. He undid the buttons on Hosea’s washed-out white shirt that had started to yellow with age. Hosea didn’t have nearly as much body hair as Dutch, and what he did have, was as gray as everything else on him. 

His clothes went into a pile similar to Dutch’s. Gun belt, boots, pants, all stacked on top of each other. When they were both stripped down to their underwear, they finally came together in a kiss. Dutch hugged his arms around Hosea’s hips like he needed it to keep them both grounded. Hosea had one hand on the back of Dutch’s head, locked in dark curls, and his other against Dutch’s chest.

At this point and after so many years, they could read each other pretty well. The moved in tandem, pushing and pulling the other precisely when they meant. Hosea tugged him along into bed. Dutch laid back into the pillows and let Hosea remove his underwear before lifting his legs over his shoulders. Hosea’s hands grazed over his thighs a few times before one came up to stroke him. Dutch just hummed low and idly thumbed at the ring on his finger.

They both had been getting a little up in age, so they needed a more gentle start nowadays. When they were all young, maybe before John came into their life, they could go at it nearly anytime, anywhere. Dutch fantasized about, but didn’t miss, those days when Hosea would come to him in an absolute fit over something, and they would go at it right there for seemingly hours just because they could. It didn’t matter if it was in Dutch’s study at the time, or the den, or that one time in Arthur’s own room when he had gone out shopping. That was kind of embarrassing, and they never did it again. Their only rule back then was that it had to be when Arthur was away or not nearby at least.

Privacy was harder now, so there had been a lot more rules since then.

Hotels and slow starts were the normal now. Hosea pet down his leg while he worked him up, occasionally kissing the crook of his knee.

“I think Arthur gets his hair from you.” Dutch laughed at that.

“He got your tongue.”

“He got your attitude.” Dutch laughed again and pet his hand through his hair.

“That he surely did. I believe he got your good looks though.”

“Oh please, we both gave him the best genes he could have gotten. He’s the handsomest outlaw around, I’m sure.”

“Bet he makes the wanted poster artist question himself.” Hosea smiled.

Dutch relaxed and put his hands behind his head. He let one leg fall off of Hosea’s shoulder and down around his hip. He nearly bucked like a wild horse when Hosea’s tongue touched him as he was drifting off. Hosea leaned down further and took a small amount of him into his mouth. Dutch hummed again, but it took everything in him to still make it sound smooth.

“Didn’t know you had French in you, Hosea.”

“Are you going to make that joke every time I do this?”

“Only until it gets old.” 

Hosea only rolled his eyes and went back to his mission. Dutch pet his face softly, felt the stubble coming in slowly. He reached into Hosea’s hair and held there. He tried to move him like that, gain a steady rhythm, but Hosea removed himself entirely.

“I am capable of doing this myself.”

“I know you are, but you’re just so handsome. I can’t resist.”

“You can resist just fine, Dutch. I’m gonna do this at my own pace.”

Dutch sighed, big and exaggerated and threw his hand back down on the bed. Hosea went right back to it like he’d never stopped. He went slower than Dutch would have liked, but he had to remind himself this wasn’t all they were doing. This wasn’t a quick visit that was hidden at the edge of camp. They had time and a bed.

Dutch thought he might draw the prettiest picture of Hosea like this. His mouth spread around him with focus and love and adoration written across his face. He was a sight like fine wine it seemed. Though, Dutch thought Hosea had been fine for many years already.

When Dutch groaned, they parted. Hosea left a small, wet kiss against his thigh and let his leg go. He climbed up on Dutch and snuggled against him, chest to chest. A ringed-hand pet along his spine and stayed at the small curve of his lower back.

“Are you Italian, Dutch?” His brow crooked.

“Why?”

“Most Italians I’ve run in with have quite a lot of hair. Even the women most of the time.” Dutch laughed.

“I don’t know much about that, but if you say I’m Italian, I guess I am.”

Hosea hummed with a smile. He scrubbed the stubble on their cheeks together, and a kiss was pressed against his temple. Dutch’s hand pet back up and down his back. After a couple calming minutes, that same hand slid lower and held Hosea’s backside. He hummed in acknowledgement and rocked forward some.

“Lay down, old man. Let me take care of you.” Hosea slid off of him, but replied anyways.

“I thought I was taking care of you today.”

“You are. This is therapeutic.”

Dutch ignored the annoyed hum Hosea gave him and pulled the older man’s underwear down instead. Dutch had gotten all of the attention so far, and it showed. Hosea was still mostly soft. He’d fix that soon though. He stood to find the petroleum jelly he bought earlier before sitting beside Hosea and stroking his back.

“Maybe after I can rub your back. Haven’t had anyone work those muscles out in awhile.”

“Charles worked on my shoulders for a little bit after he saw me trying to stretch them. He doesn’t seem the type to normally get involved with people, but he’s got good hands.”

“I don’t know if I should be jealous of you or him.”

Hosea chuckled. He let Dutch work his back until it popped once. He hummed and tried to touch Dutch with any part of him without just straight up grabbing him. He ended up tapping his leg against Dutch’s, locked his ankle around that leg and tried to pull him in. Dutch chuckled and leaned over him. He scraped his little goatee along Hosea’s shoulder and hummed. 

“Getting impatient, are we?”

“Oh, never, but I do think you’ve had me wait long enough.”

Dutch nodded and hummed again. He held the meat of Hosea’s ass in one hand before giving it a sharp smack. The older man only moaned quietly, getting himself comfortable. He arched his back the tiniest bit, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it very long without aching later.

“Mm, beautiful…”

Hosea was expecting another smack or the cold slick probe of his jellied fingers, but what he got was a warm wet muscle lapping at him. He hiccuped on a moan and held the light blue sheets beneath him. 

Dutch kissed his slowly reddening handprint there. They shifted at the same time before Dutch delved in to give Hosea a proper warm up. Hosea muffled a small noise into the pillow he was hugging.

They didn’t do _this_ very often. Even less often since John and the camp as a whole. The first time Hosea had asked for it, Dutch flat out refused. He changed his mind once Hosea showed him how it felt. It eventually became Dutch’s favorite act to get Hosea going. He was sure Dutch had used it on other partner’s too, but knowing he taught him and convinced him, really did something for Hosea.

Hosea shifted a little, tucked a pillow under his hips. Dutch chuckled and helped him settle. He swore Hosea’s hips wouldn’t be nearly as bad if they had never met. He was sure he aged the man’s body a little faster with all their screwing around. Maybe without Dutch he’d still be like this though, drifting to different partners. Hell, maybe even Bessie messed Hosea up like Dutch did.

“I think you’re getting sentimental with age, Dutch.”

“Oh yeah? Why do you say that, old man?”

“Because we’ve been at this for half an hour, and you haven’t put anything in me.” Dutch chuckled.

“Maybe you’re right. I am sentimental.” He kissed the dip along Hosea’s spine. “Or maybe you’re just a distracting partner.”

Hosea hummed but offered nothing more. He tapped his foot against Dutch again and curled against the pillow in his arms. He had the silliest little grin on his face, like the cat that got the cream. Dutch smiled at him, thought Hosea wouldn’t have noticed.

Dutch propped himself up, sat on his heels, and popped open the petroleum jelly. He rubbed it between his fingers to warm it up before gently pressing one against Hosea. He let out a soft breath and tilted his hips up, so Dutch continued.

They really already did their foreplay, and now this was just a chore before the main event, but sometimes Dutch liked to indulge. He crooked his finger up the tiniest bit and heard Hosea let out a little grunt. The second press was harder and made Hosea groan out properly. He tilted his hips up the tiniest bit.

“D-did you keep your rings on?”

“I might have. Why? Are they too cold against you?”

“No, it’s nice, you filthy man.”

Dutch chuckled and pressed his ringed, middle finger alongside his first. Hosea exhaled slow and relaxed as best he could. He tried to press back further and work Dutch’s hand in him, but he was so out of it, he didn’t get far.

“God, you’re gorgeous… I ever tell you that? You look amazing like this. Seen you so many ways, but all sprawled out with you nearly begging for my hand has to be my favorite.”

“Who says I’m begging?” Dutch hummed and slapped him once against the ass with his free hand.

“Who indeed?”

“Christ alright, yeah, Dutch. Come on then. I haven’t got all day.”

Dutch grinned and sat up on his knees before slicking up his cock. Dutch saw the little glint in Hosea’s eye when he turned the slightest bit to look back at him. The man always seemed to squint, but this wasn’t a squint. It looked more sated. He seemed almost on the edge of sleep just by his facial expression. The heavy-lidded eyes blinked slow before turning away entirely and hiding against a pillow.

Dutch leaned over Hosea, ringed-hand pressed beside his head. He dragged his facial hair along his shoulder again while he teasingly pressed against him. One of Hosea’s hands came up to grip Dutch’s black curls and hold him against his neck. Dutch chuckled and pet the arm that held him.

“What do you need, dear?”

“Dutch, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please get on with it, you miserable little man.” Dutch laughed and Hosea smiled at him. 

“I believe that is the best I’m going to get today.”

“You’re damn right it is. Now fuck me, Dutch.”

“Oho, that’s a little better. Maybe you can give me a little more?”

Hosea’s lips tightened before he tugged on Dutch’s hair harder. He hissed and pat the pillow beneath them in surrender.

“Alright, I yield! I’ll leave it alone.”

“You better.”

Hosea released his locks and settled back into the pillow. Dutch fixed his hair quickly and placed a hand along Hosea’s hip. He exhaled long and slow as he delved in. They hummed in unison. Hosea let out the smallest gasp before groaning long and quiet.

Sometimes it took a little while for Dutch to coax a bit more out of his partner. He was happy with him any way of course, but sometimes Hosea needed a little reminder that he could open up wholly.

When their hips met Dutch sighed and leaned over his partner, pressing kisses to his neck. Hosea humed questioningly and tried to shift his hips beneath the other man. He didn’t get anywhere, so he just tilted his head instead and let his neck be covered in an onslaught of kisses.

“You are the sweetest thing in my life, old man.”

“I might be sweeter if you stopped calling me old man in bed.”

“My dearest. Angel. Sunshine. Light of my life. Apple of my-”

“Alright! That’s quite enough. I’d prefer the nickname lottery _after_ we finish, Dutch.”

“Of course, my darling, but I would like something.”

“What now?”

“I just want to see your face while I make love to you.” 

The tips of Hosea’s ears turned pink, but he tried to laugh it away. He rolled over anyways, with Dutch’s help. When he was situated again, he hugged around the younger man’s neck.

“You are a sap and a minx, Van der Linde.”

“I’d argue that I learned it from the best.”

They grinned at each other. Silly giddiness fogged their mind of any other action. Hosea opened up a little more now. He pressed kisses along Dutch’s face like he was a teenager again, but it felt right in that moment.

Dutch moved when the rhythm was right between them. He was tempted to bend Hosea in half, but he realized their aging bodies probably wouldn’t enjoy that. He wasn’t too keen on having either of them hurting besides the good ache that stayed in the pit of your stomach afterwards. Instead of twisting Hosea into weird positions, he tried to focus extra hard on how the other man was feeling.

Normally, sex would be about the both of them. It was never selfish between them, but they both would get what they wanted. Today, Dutch wanted to give Hosea everything and focus on him. He deserved it really. 

Dutch held his hand against the pillow, pressed a kiss against that silver hairline. The hand he didn’t trap weighed on Dutch’s chest, felt the skin there, and held the dark curls lightly. On a particular thrust Hosea gasped quietly. Dutch chuckled.

“Good spot?”

“Y-yes. Come on then. I know you’ve got more in you.”

“Yessir.”

Dutch pulled Hosea’s hand to his lips and kissed each one of his fingers. Hosea gently pulled it away from his kisses and pet his face. Dutch held and pet his wrist there.

“How would you like me, darling?” He kissed Hosea’s palm.

“Fast but not too hard. Want to be feeling it later, but I’d still like to ride my horse comfortably.”

“Of course, your highness. Your wish is my command, Mr. Matthews.”

Dutch kissed his hand one last time before holding both of Hosea’s wrist above his head. He straightened up and moved against him once, twice. He found his rhythm quickly, careful not to shove the other man too hard. Hosea whimpered quietly before adjusting properly and closing his eyes.

His wrists twisted involuntarily in Dutch’s grasp. He wasn’t really trying to get away, just squirming. He tried to move back against Dutch too, but he ended up just punching the breath out of himself even harder. He gave up and just tried to let Dutch do the work, without seeming uninterested.

“You are a sight to behold, Hosea. A more gorgeous man there never was.” Hosea huffed a laugh. “A true beauty in this modern world. One that will be taken for granted by all but me. If we were in a different time, I would be sculpting statues of you while the people worshipped your image.”

“If I recall right, most of those statues have very small _gifts_.”

“Oh yes, but only to prove the muse’s amazing intellect. They thought ‘surely a man of his _stature_ isn’t distracted by worldly pleasures. He can focus on knowledge and learning!’ And besides being beautiful, you are the smartest man I know.”

Hosea laughed for real now and held the pinky finger he could reach. He shook his head once before relaxing.

“This is the weirdest dirty talk I’ve ever heard out of you.” Dutch laughed.

“What about that one time where-”

“Ah! We don’t talk about that.” Dutch chuckled.

“Of course, my bad.” He palmed his free hand against Hosea’s cock. “Would you like to end this first session, my love? We still have plenty of time for more, but I think I’m a little loopy after holding out this long.”

Hosea only nodded and braced his feet a little steadier against the bed. Dutch continued at his quick rhythm but with the addition of his hand now. Now was the first time either of them couldn’t properly hold in a moan. Hosea’s were like quick little rabbit thumps, set in time with Dutch’s thrusts. The other man’s were low and drawn out, more of a groan really.

Dutch came first. Deep and long, just like his moan. He didn’t dare move, he’d shove himself further if he could. His hand kept working on the older man. Moans turned to mewls turned to babbling. It could be begging, but it was too unintelligible to be coined as such.

Dutch groaned louder when Hosea finished, he felt it before he really saw it, and he gave him a few extra thrusts for good measure. Hosea shuddered, tried to curl in on himself but the hand holding his arms down wouldn’t let him. The hand on his cock didn’t stop, and he nearly thought he would black out before it slowed and pet his hip instead.

“Gorgeous… Really.”

“D-Dutch, please.”

“Alright, give me a second there, angel.”

Dutch released him fully. Hosea hugged his chest and rubbed at his own wrists. The younger man slowly and carefully slid out of him. They both made one last little moan. Dutch grabbed his neckerchief from his waist coat on the floor and wiped himself off. He laid beside Hosea and very gently cleaned up his stomach and between his legs.

Hosea’s eyes were closed. Sated. He spread his legs when he felt Dutch nudge his knees apart and rolled over when he was prompted to. Still awake, but somewhere else. When, Dutch’s neckerchief hit the ground with a thump, Hosea shifted nearer. He pulled an arm around the older man and tucked him close.

When they first came together like this, it was Dutch that yearned to be held, and he still did sometimes, like last night in his tent. But after Bessie… Well, Hosea liked touch as much as anyone else he supposed.

They stayed like that. Comfortable in one another.

**Author's Note:**

> pls talk to me about these gay old men on my twitter by the same username


End file.
